


Calibration Diagnostics

by AceQueenKing



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5632384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short stories featuring Garrus and Shepard. Mostly happy fluff, some a bit more mature than others.</p><p>New: Garrus and Shepard discuss the future - if they're lucky enough to get to the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus and Shepard try out this "interspecies awkwardness thing."

“I don’t…” Her voice catches in her throat as she looks at him, so indescribably alien. “I don’t know where to touch you, Garrus.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he says dryly as he stares at her breasts – and for the first time in her life, she is fairly sure that the expression on his face isn’t anything close to lust. His expression is lost, hopelessly so, and she’d laugh if she wasn’t sitting naked on his lap trying to figure out how to make this work.

Inter-species awkwardness thing, she thinks, is starting to look a little too likely.

She frowns as she runs a hand down his cowl, comfortingly warm yet completely alien. Does he like to be touched here? She does not know. She wishes she’d paid more attention to the turians she has seen on the Presidium docks. 

Garrus, to her surprise, pulls her hand away.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He holds her hand as if he’s fascinated by it, rubbing the skin and gently moving her hand down to his waist.

“Unplated areas are…more sensitive, generally. This is the biggest spot of bare skin for us.” 

Your waist,” she says skeptically, as she squeezes it.

His response is immediate: a deep shudder that shakes them both. 

 _“Yes_ ,” he murmurs.

“Oh.” She smiles softly and lets her fingers trail down his strange skin; velvety and thick where hers is thin and smooth. 

Garrus makes a sort of high pitched whine in the back of his throat as his hands squeeze tight on the small divot of her waist, long fingers curling practically to her belly button.

“Is it… is it the same for you?” he asks, sub-vocals thick and eager.

“It’s nice but… not quite so uh, intense for us.”

“Oh.” His mandibles twitter for a second before he grabs her hand again. “Show me where to…?”

She moves his hand up until it cups a breast, moving one of his long, alien talons to rub against a nipple. Experimentally, Garrus rubs one of her nipples with his talons, and she shivers.

“Soft,” he says quietly, and she bites her cheek to keep from laughing at how much it sounds like Garrus is taking notes. _Human Female Breast Tissue: Soft. Possible uses unknown – May need tactical calibration ?_ “What do I…? _”_

“What you’re doing is fine.” He nods and moves his talons, gently squeezing and exploring, keen eyes seemingly memorizing every little shiver she makes. “Rubbing is nice, sometimes a little squeeze is good.”

“Ah.” He squeezes one breast gently and looks up at her, mandibles tittering. “What about uh… licking? Turian females…” He looks away. “They like uh…”

“Licking,” She says. “Is good. Very good. Very, very – _oooh,_ ” She moans, words dissolving as Garrus puts words into practice.

And suddenly, that whole “inter-species awkwardness thing” no longer seems like an option.


	2. Grooming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus teaches Shepard a little bit about turian hygiene.

“So… How do we start this?” Shepard fidgets, sitting naked in the ridiculously big bed Cerberus gifted her with. She feels self-conscious, awkward sitting naked on the bed with the strange turian tool kit in hand. It’s rare that Commander Shepard comes to situations with no intel, but this is one of this, and the risks for failure – while tactically minimal – are high.

 Garrus doesn’t notice her nervousness, however; if anything, he’s being downright eager, practically diving onto the bed.

“Someone’s excited,” she laughs. “You sure you don’t want to skip cleaning and just get dirty again?”

“No.” He chuckles, mandibles flaring into a small smile. “I – I really want to do this with you. Preening is, well – it’s something I hoped we could share.”

“I’m game.” She returns the smile, happy to share this rare moment of peace, even as her stomach twists. “Just don’t want to screw this up.”

“You won’t.” He nuzzles her head softly. “You taught me about showers, right?”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t do much cleaning there.” 

“Liked you better dirty anyway.” His mandibles waggle in a way that she thinks must be a turian facial expression along the lines of absolutely shameless. “Ready?”

“Absolutely. Just tell me what to do.”

Garrus nods as he moves, shifting lower until he is able to lay his head in her lap. “We generally start with the fringe and work our way down.” He gropes, blindly for the tool kit, and pulls out a brush-like tool full of sharp-looking bristles. 

“Okay.” She brushes at the long, thick spines of his fringe and feels him make a soft whimper into her stomach. She withdraws hastily, heart leaping.

“Don’t stop,” he murmurs. 

“It’s not hurting you?”

“No.” Garrus’ voice is rough, harsh. “No. It’s… It’s good.”

“Okay.” She gently swipes the brush over his brow and his eyes shut tight. “Like this?”

“Yes.” Garrus curls a hand into her side. “Yes. Just like that.”

Starting from the brow, she gently sweeps the brush through the grooves of his fringe. Garrus’s breathing shifts into a deep rhythm, like he’s sleeping.

“Hey,” Shepard chuckles. “Don’t fall asleep. I don’t know what I’m doing here.&rdquo

“You’re doing great,” he whispers. “And I’m not asleep. It’s just… really relaxing.” 

“I’m glad.” She smiles as she hits the very ends of his fringe. “It’s nice to be able to relax.”

Of course, they both know beating the Collectors – a deed they’ll never have any recognition from – won’t stop the reapers completely. And without the protection of the Illusive Man, the future looks less sure than ever.

“Yeah.” Garrus rubs at his neck absentmindedly, an act that looks ridiculous with his long cowl ridge half in the way. “I’ve never been able to do this before.”

“Brush out your fringe?” She blinks.

“Well, I mean, I’ve done it, and my mother did it for me when I was a small child, but…” He looks up at her, eyes slightly shiny. “This is the first time I’ve ever _let_ someone else do it, Shepard.”

“Oh.” She says, suddenly unsure of herself. “I uh…Are you sure you really want me to do this?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t want anyone else to.” Shepard feels a flash of heat tinging her cheeks. “I mean, I’m pretty sure if I trusted Grunt with this, I’d be scalped by now.”

“Ah, yeah. He might not be the right choice for turian grooming.” 

“No.” He rubs her side absentmindedly. “Definitively not.”

“Good thing he didn’t ask about your reach, huh?” She laughs, one hand lightly dancing down his side.

“Even if he did, I don’t think I would have accepted that offer, Shepard.”

“Didn’t think you’d accept mine, either,” She says as she cleans out the space between the grooves of his fringe. “You looked a bit… surprised.”

“It was good surprise,” he says, talons lightly trailing paths down her back. “I didn’t think we’d ever have this.”

“Me neither,” she says, putting down the fringe-brush. “What’s next?”

Garrus shifts onto his back, handing her a different brush, one with deeper set bristles. “Cowl. Along the edges, then under the rim.”

“Ok.” She glides the long brush along the back of his strange, jutting hump, as Garrus makes an odd purring noise beneath her. “I’m happy, you know. That we have this.”

“Me too,” he says, vocals strained over the purring sub-vocals. “After this, do you want to try a bath again? I’ve heard that humans have some strange traditions involving bubbles.”

“You’re going to get water trapped behind your plates,” she teases, putting more pressure on the brush as she scrapes against the inside of his cowl.

“I’m willing to risk it,” he says lightly. “I like sharing this with you.”

“Yeah.” She grins, already imagining Garrus in cloud of bubbles. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to buhnebeest for beta'ing this one. 
> 
> Also: Should any of my readers be interested, buhnebeest and I are running a rare pair challenge for Mass Effect called [Spectre Requisitions](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Spectre_Requisitions/profile). Although Femshep/Garrus is not available, we have lots of threesomes featuring those two that are eligible, along with M!Shepard/Garrus of course. Sign-ups are going on for the next week so if anyone is interested, feel free to sign up. :)


	3. If At First You Don't Succeed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus and Shepard keep getting their reunion cut short, and take matters into their own hands to fix it.

Shepard grimly laid out the weapons she needed for her latest assault alongside the thin rim of the sink, wishing that Cerberus had sprung for a bathtub or cabinet, rather than the ornate fish-tank they’d seemingly prioritized.  
  
As she did before beginning any op, she went through her supplies: _dye – check, towel – check,_ _petroleum_ _jelly_ _– check, brush, comb and gloves – check, check, check_.  
  
Really, she thought, it was a bit ridiculous that she had to dye her hair during _the apocalypse_ , but Udina had _insisted_ that a “more polished look” might make the difference between the council races seeing her as a representative of the Alliance and not some bedraggled, recently released prisoner.   
  
_You didn’t come off well last time_ , _Shepard. Don’t mess up this meeting. It’s bad enough we’ve got the Krogan involved.  
_  
She made a face as she stared at her weaponry. She had a feeling the krogan wouldn’t give a damn what color her hair was.   
  
Her omni-tool beeped, distracting her from her upcoming op… but once she saw who the call was from, she didn’t hesitate to hit accept.  
  
“ _Shepard_ ,” Garrus said, his mandibles flaring into a smile. “How are you?”  
  
“Happy to hear from you,” she said, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear.  It had been bad enough that Udina had taken up half her evening screaming at her about her hair – but then, he’d also eaten up all of her Garrus time, which was considerably worse. She had only had just enough time to give him an introduction to the protocol on reunions. It was considerably shorter reunion than she would have preferred.  
  
“Yeah, same here.” Garrus said; within seconds,  he realized his blunder, his face contorting into embarrassment before she could even smirk. “I mean, uh – happy to hear from, from _y-_ ”  
  
“I know what you meant.” She arched her back, giving Garrus Garrus a view of her curves and a taste of what he was missing. His eyes, suddenly focused on her waist, looking like a man on Therum without a spot of water to drink. “How’s the calibrations going, big guy?”  
  
“Good, good. Running an algorithm that will take a few hours…” Garrus tilted his head forward, staring into the camera.” Don’t suppose you’d want to hang out for a bit?”  
  
“With your Primarch on board?” She raised an eyebrow. “You sure you wanna mix business with pleasure like that?”  
  
“I’ll…figure it out,” Garrus muttered. “It’s been too long, Shepard.”  
  
“Yeah.” It _really_ had been. Garrus wasn’t the only one who was thirsty. “I gotta finish up with some…prep…for the rendezvous tomorrow, but you’re free to come up and we can get…reacquainted.”  
  
“I’ll be up in a minute.”  
  
She nodded. Udina could wait. “Sounds like a date.”  
  
Garrus raised a brow-plate. “Date, huh?”  
  
“Yeah. _Date_.”  
  
“Oh.” Garrus laughed, but quickly stopped laughing when the door opened behind him. She didn’t need to see the profile of the person entering to know who it was.  
  
 _Victus_.  
  
“Vakarian!” Victus boomed, and Garrus looked at her for a split-second, his face a mix of horror and frustration. Then he slowly turned around, giving his superior a turian salute.  
  
“Sir!”   
  
“At ease, Vakarian.” Victus nodded toward her, and at that moment she realized that Garrus had forgotten to disable the two-way communication cycle. Victus, however, seemed unruffled.  
  
“Shepard,” he said, then turned toward Garrus. “Vakarian, I was hoping we would be able to go over the provisional agreement I want to outline for the krogan delegation. I trust you’ll be available to give me your thoughts?”  
  
Garrus hesitated, visibly, but Victus wasn’t thrown. Instead, the man simply waited, and after a mere second, Garrus’ turian upbringing got the better of him.

“Yes, sir.” Garrus nodded. “Can you give me a few minutes to finish up my calibrations?” 

It took every ounce of willpower Shepard had to not reach through the screen and smack the man for pulling out the calibrations line.

“Of course. Clear up any business you have with the Commander, and then meet me in the war-room in fifteen?”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Garrus saluted again, and Victus, having thoroughly ruined their plans, strolled off the stage.   
  
She waited until Victus had trundled out the door before raising her eyebrows.  
  
“Sorry.” Garrus’ mandibles flared out in the sheepish dismay of a man who wasn’t getting any.  
  
“It’s okay.” She sighed. “I guess I can forgive you for working so hard to try to prevent the apocalypse.”  
  
“It’s one of my more endearing features.” He said, mandibles slipping from discomfort to a downright smirk. “What is it you humans say…. A check for rain?”  
  
“Raincheck. Yeah.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m going to finish up prep here…give me a call when you finish with Victus.”  
  
“Alright.” Garrus looked up at her. “I’ll make it up to you, Shepard. Promise.”  
  
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “How are you going to do that?”  
  
Garrus’ mandibles flared away from his mouth in what she’d come to recognize was an excited smile. “I’ve been thinking we could try some….new things.”  
  
“Oh? What kind of new things?”  
  
“New mouth things.” His mandibles twitched. “Some of the vids I watched had uh, well, mouths on uh, well, one of my favorite places.”  
  
“Garrus.” She blinked. “Your teeth. My lady parts. Your _sharp_ teeth. _My_ lady parts. You don’t see a problem there?”  
  
“No.” He blinked. “Shepard, I’m not sure if you had time to study turian mating – “  
  
“Not really on the prison-approved datapads, Garrus.”  
  
“Hey, you looked.” Garrus puffed up, visibly chuffed. “Well, we’ve got something…similar. It’s a common way of opening a female’s plates. And I got a levo-sensitivity test and it turns out I’m not allergic to your body’s fluids.”  
  
“Sexy.” She smirked. “Better save the pillow talk, Vakarian; otherwise I’ll never let you get to your meeting.”  
  
“Yeah.” Garrus looked down. “Speaking of, I should go, Shepard.”  
  
“Hey, Garrus. That’s my line.”  
  
“Ah, right. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s alright.” She waved to the omni-cam. “See you, Garrus.”  
  
“See you.”  
  
* * *   
  
 One hour quickly turned into two, and two into three, each marked by apologetic and increasingly frustrated texts from Garrus. By the time hour three had rolled around, she had not only dyed her hair, but done her fingernails and picked out the formal uniform that she would wear.   
  
By the time three turned into four, she’d caught up on her paperwork, formulated an idea for how to end of the war with the Geth, and received no less than three grumbling promises that once the war was over, they would never have to deal with Victus’ perfectionist tendencies again.  
  
She had fallen asleep before four hours turned to five, only to be awoken by a call at six. _  
  
“Mm?”  
_  
“Shepard.” Garrus gasped. “Meet me in the supply closet. Twenty minutes.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Please.” Garrus whispered; there was a palpable air of desperation in his words. “Victus has gone to grab an early breakfast and we don’t – don’t have much time.”  
  
“Garrus, he has to sleep sometime.” She rubbed her eyes.  
  
“He’s a turian, Shepard. A turian with a _son_ fighting on the front lines on Palaven as we speak. He won’t sleep until this conference is done – and maybe not even then.”  
  
“How long can a turian go without sleep, Garrus?”  
  
“Longer than I can go without seeing you,” Garrus whispered. “ _Please Shepard.”  
_  
“All right, all right.” She debated putting on her full regulation uniform, the immediately decided against it. Twenty minutes wasn’t a lot; her sweats were leagues more easy access than the official stuff, especially for someone with three fingers.  
  
“Great.” Garrus instantly sounded much, much happier. “Supply closet. Third deck. ASAP.”  
  
“Why the supply closet?”  
  
“Shepard, I am turian.” Garrus coughed. “We're….we’re good at logistics. Let’s just say I’m maximizing our time.”  
  
“Alright, alright.” She set her omni tones to silent – she could barely believe she was doing a zero five hundred hours booty call, but if she was going to do a zero five hundred hours booty call, she was going to do it right. “I’m on my way.”  
  
“Hurry,” Garrus whispered, urgency seeping through his sub-vocals.  
  
* * *  
  
 She glanced from side to side as she opened the closet door. Two strong arms pulled her in, and she laughed softly as Garrus pulled her close, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek against her own.  
  
“Missed you too, big guy,” she said, tracing the outer edge of his cowl. He’d managed to strip down to his under-suit, an impressive task for a seven foot tall space lizard in a space the size of a water heater.  
  
Garrus wasted no time, leaning in and rubbing his mouth plates against her neck in a tender kiss. “Gotta be quiet, Shepard. Victus is just down the hall in the – “  
  
“Mess. Yeah yeah.” She smirked. “Don’t take that as an excuse to do slip-shot service, Vakarian.”  
  
“Oh trust me,” he whispered, pulling the old sweatpants down and running one long, oddly jointed finger across her sex. “I’m never one to neglect my black widow.”  
  
“I’m your Widow? _Really_?” She replied, turning around for easier access, which, judging by the hand eagerly pulling her top up, Garrus approved of.  
  
“Shepard,” Garrus grunted, one finger trailing down his waist. “I’m saying you’re the best gun on the market. Metaphorically.”  
  
“Charming.” She sighed softly. “As much as I’d like to keep you just flicking that trigger, we don’t have a lot of time.”  
  
“Yeah,” Garrus grumbled, and then he left one finger tracing her folds, gently probing them. “I like Victus and all, but he’s such a perfectionist.”  
  
“Garrus,” she whispered, reaching behind her to grab her turian boyfriend’s downright bony waist in an attempt to soften the blow of the words she was about to say. “It has been _six months_. We have _fifteen minutes_ to get reacquainted. _Shut up_ about your _boss_.”  
  
“Yes, ma'am.” If Garrus hands weren’t on her, she was pretty sure he would have saluted her from the tone in his voice.   
  
Garrus pulled away from her a second to fumble the opening to his under-suit, and then he was back, gently leaning her up against a crate.   

“Sorry,” he whispered slowly as he caressed her backside. “I know the bed is a lot more comfortable.”  
  
“Yeah yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna show me how much you miss me already?”  
  
“Yeah,” Garrus whispered as he moved behind her. She pressed her legs apart for better access and tried not to wince when the cold metal corners of his under-suit pressed up against her thighs.  
  
“Sorry.” She couldn’t see him, but she bet he was smiling as his hands tugged at her thighs. “But you know, this has it’s advantages…”  
  
“You getting turned on by the danger, G?”  
  
“Well, I’m dating you,” he drawled, slowly sliding inside of her. “So the answer to that is yes.”  
  
“Garrus!” She whispered, a bit of urgency in her voice, undone by the overwhelming the sensation of feeling full again, for the first time in so long.   
  
“Shepard,” he whispered, nudging her throat with his mouth. “Oh, Shepard. I missed you.”  
  
“Me too, big guy.” She braced against the crate as Garrus moved inside of her, slow at first, but his speed quickly building.   
  
It’s not how either of them would have preferred their reunion, but they don’t have a lot of time.  
  
Garrus wrapped his arms back around her, one hand going to her folds and slowly massaging her most sensitive flesh, the other to her waist.  
  
It was not the most pleasing sex they’d ever had – for one thing, she was pretty much wedged up against the crate of medical supplies, with a too-warm turian on her back and her legs sore as hell from Garrus’ spines at her knees rubbing against tender skin.   
  
Still, compared to the last six months without him, it was _great_.   
  
After a few minutes, both of them were having a hard time keeping quiet; she could feel how Garrus’ jaw clenched with effort when she stretched to rub his mandibles, and she had to bite her own lips to try to keep herself from saying anything above a whisper.

“Shepard,” Garrus whispered, his voice almost reverent; she nodded, a soft whimper on her breath. Garrus went a bit _too_ hard on the next thrust, but she was too overtaken by her own pleasure to care when Garrus jostled the shelf above them, knocking down some sort of chemical cleaner.

She did notice it on the next stroke, when her eyes started watering; Garrus obviously sensed it too; she heard a soft wheeze in his voice that had nothing to do with exertion.

“Fuck, that’s strong,” she ground out.   

“Yeah,” Garrus whispered. “Ugh.”  
  
She breathed through her mouth and tried to ignore it, but on the next thrust she heard Garrus make an odd sort of noise, halfway between a groan and a sneeze.  
  
She tried to ignore the fact that Garrus now sounded like a slightly deflated accordion, but the sound didn’t let up, each thrust accompanied by a gasp. Within a couple minutes, she was crying from the smell, and within five Garrus shuddered against her shoulder and uttered a simple but elegant statement that completely matched her feelings on the situation:  
  
“ _Fuck_.”

 And with that, they both knew it was not going to happen tonight. She sighed, reaching down and pulling up her pants.   
  
“I’m sorry.” Garrus mandibles’ wibbled in a way that would be cute in just about any other situation. “I’m sor-ah—ah…..achnaugh!”   
  
She felt a light breeze across her back and winced as she redressed. Garrus tucked everything away with what, in a better mood, she would charitably call great muscle control.  
  
“It’s uh, not your fault, big guy,” she whispered, trying hard not to be annoyed at the situation.   
  
“I dink I’m all-all-alll-” Garrus turned away from her as he sneezed.  
  
“Allergic,” she finished for him.   
  
“Yeah.” He sniffed as he hunted desperately for the last pieces of his armor, sticking them on fairly haphazardly between sneezes.   
  
“Raincheck?” He asked, eyes puppy-dog large, as he hastily attempted to strap on a gauntlet without looking at it.  
  
“Oh yeah, big guy,” she whispered, helping him jam his pauldron on as she wiped tears from her eyes. Garrus sneezed again, looking totally miserable, and she couldn’t help but give him a little hug.  
  
 “Shepard?”  
  
  “Yes?”  
  
“Let’s get out of here before I –- harrghtn,” he sneezed.  
  
“Too late.”  
  
Garrus didn’t waste time replying, just caressing her hair in a hurried pat before he opened the door. She was just about to follow him when Garrus pressed his weight against it, and just as she raised a hand to bang on the door for sweet, sweet olfactory freedom, she caught Garrus’ arm raising into a military salute and froze.  
  
“Ah, Vakarian,” Victus said, as unflappable as ever. “Ready to finish going over those figures?”  
  
Garrus froze for a moment, but thankfully only a moment. She gagged, trapped in the strench of what could only be charitably ccalled bleach.   
  
Victus’ nose flared, and Shepard knew it was only a few seconds until they were caught.  
  
His mandibles twittered and her stomach curled in on itself. Even Garrus seemed a bit tense.  
  
And then Victus sneezed.   
  
 “Harugh. What is that smell, Vakarian? It smells haugh – haaughgh – chaooooo!”  
  
“Some kind of cleaning supply leak, sir,” Garrus said. “I was just about to get Shepard and – “  
  
“Do it, man,” Victus said, sniffling. “Before that smell hau- – haugh — haaughhoochoo – “  
  
“Yes sir.” Garrus snapped at Victus, who did not reply as he was too busy hurriedly beating his retreat.  
  
  To her credit, she somehow managed to stop herself from laughing until after she was out of the unbearable closet.   
  
“So…” Garrus said, gently dabbing at her red eyes. “What do you say we go find a mop, clean that up, and then…make the most of things?”  
  
“Sounds like a date,” she said.  
  
  “Yeah.” Garrus nodded, placing his hands in hers. “A date.”


	4. And My Winter Giving Way to Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus and Shepard discuss the future - if they're lucky enough to get to the future.

“You know, I was thinking,” Garrus says, his arms curling around her as he keeps her company through another long, bleak night of countless loss reports. “When this is all over, assuming that you and I are still alive… What do you want to do?”  
  
Shepard frowns.  
  
 “I hadn’t really thought that far,” she says. She’s concentrated every waking moment on winning the fight, on having something left when all this is over – it’s hard to see any end goal right now, what might come _after_ the end the world.  
  
“Oh,” He says, quietly, as he unwinds his arms from around her shoulders.   
  
“I meant that it’s hard to think about actually _having_ a future.” Shepard reaches out and grabs the rapidly retreating limb, placing it back in it’s proper place, dangling it over her shoulder. “Not that it’s hard to see you in it.”  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” He says, sub-vocals tilting into what she has come to recognize as a teasing tone. “And where exactly am I in that future?”

Shepard puts the datapad down and shifts, straddling his lap as his hands fall to a familiar position at her waist.  
  
“Well…” She says softly, trailing one finger down the length of his mandible. “Sometimes, you’re underneath me.”  
  
“I like that plan,” he mutters, watching as she traces a lazy path along his mandibles.  
  
“Me too,” she grins. “But sometimes you’re above me. For variety.”  
  
“Of course,” he says, as he flips her onto her back, pinning her underneath his heavy body. “I like that, too.”  
  
“But…where we are doesn’t really matter.” She folds her legs tight around his ridiculously thin waist, a move that makes him groan. “Just as long as you’re with me.”  
  
“And there’s a bed,” he murmurs, nipping at her neck gently. “Or at least a couch.”  
  
“Mmm, yeah. A nice big one.” She runs a hand over his cowl the same instant his runs through her hair. “And some food.”  
  
“Of course,” he says, “Dextro _and_ levo. Ideally a fully stocked fridge or two – wouldn’t want to ruin our vacation with grocery runs.”  
  
“Fully stucked fridge, yes,” she agrees. “But other than that, it doesn’t matter – Palaven or Earth, Noveria or Sur'Kesh – just as long as you’re by my side.”  
  
Garrus pulls up abruptly, jarring her out of her romantic interlude.  
  
“Not Noveria,” he says, his mandibles so pulled in to his jaw that they are nearly in his mouth. “Too cold, Shepard.”  
  
She laughs, and is rewarded by Garrus flaring his mandibles in a large grin.   
  
“Okay, big guy. We’ll stick to the beaches.”  
  
“Mmm,” He hums, nipping just the very edge of her ear. “Yes. And what kind of things would we, ah, do on these beaches…?”  
  
“You know, I think it might just be better to show you.” Shepard unbuckles the edge of one of his many, many buckles, fingers trailing a path to the next as Garrus’ pupils dilate.  
  
“Yes,” he says, fingers already struggling to unzip her top. “I think an example would be a good idea.”  
  
“Carry me to the bed, big guy,” she says, and, with a soft laugh, he does so, following her on the closest thing to a vacation they’re going to get for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Mureh and code-name-coyot on tumblr.


End file.
